Droitwich is the term for the 'get-past-you-shuffle,'
In the street dance/pedestrian hustle,
I scared two strangers,
Walking around a corner, in each other's path danger,
Blue and green eyes both opened wide,
A white man and woman's true feelings in this split second could not hide,
Co-workers I'd known for a few years,
Panic and control lost in inches of personal space surfaced latent fears,
Never once in my 40 years,
When I cross paths with a non-ethnic or non-black,
They never say my bad, or get out of MY path,
Once they realize who/what I am,
Awkward silence,
No threat of violence,
The expectation is that I should acquiesce,
So I first say excuse me and walk around,
But they keep walking away without a sound.